


When Like Meets Like

by Firelord124



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: DICE is a vigilante group in this one, F/M, M/M, references to the masque of the red death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 03:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19803730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firelord124/pseuds/Firelord124
Summary: Kokichi Ouma is bored, stifled in a tightly scheduled, controlled lifestyle with an unfulfilled urge to escape towards something new. All this changes when he is invited to a masked ball, in which he is introduced to a mysterious stranger, dressed almost entirely in green.





	When Like Meets Like

It seemed like years had passed since he closed his eyes. Squinting in the gloomy light, Kokichi took in his surroundings with an internal groan. The window beside him opened up to another grey day, and he was mindful of the regular beats of the clock, as the hands mechanically moved across the surface. He’d heard somewhere that you rarely pay attention to such sounds, that they fade into your subconscious. Well. It would seem like his subconscious was not receiving any messages today. Kindly send them over to the conscious side of the brain, please, where they can be directly processed.

It made it all the more indicative of the well of feeling that had been building up inside. What had happened the night before? He could not pull out anything of value. His mind scrambled to put together a summary; it started with the memory of his eyes closing, but everything before was scrambled into a mix of randomness. An image of frustration, of flicking off the lamp beside the bed with a vengeful air, of the dull yellow light flickering off, leaving him in the comfort of darkness. What you don’t see can’t hurt you. Especially if you cannot see anything at all. At least you can pretend, latch on to, the illusion that nothing mattered at all.

The sound of the clock was getting more and more intrusive, drilling into the frustratingly opaque fog that had formed in Kokichi’s mind. It was the equivalent of consistently running into a brick wall. With a growl, and before he had completely known what he was doing, he saw his arms reach toward the clock, and open up the internal components, pulling out the batteries. The sound gradually dulled away, leaving him in greyness once more. But the wall remained. He was conscious of it.

He dug himself into the bed once more, until the greyness began to gently subside and the room grew brighter.

The breakfast was to be expected; he felt, inside of him, a stifled cry at the two slices of toast, the apricot jam, with a metal spoon inserted, and a half-empty milk carton, that was comfortably a week before the expiry date. Of course it was; he had made sure of that, and he never deviated from the schedule. It was almost a relief in a way; this was one thing that he could never get wrong. He had the same process every instance he bought anything from the local store; he checked the expiry date, and carefully looked up the calendar that took up the central spot on the breakfast table. Below the pictures, lie a grid of carefully checked boxes, each with a date, and each with a carefully drawn purple cross, symmetrically drawn, from one corner to the other. Other boxes had other signs, each scribbled precisely in different colours. Red. Yellow. Green. Brown. And all the colours that the marker set had, when he purchased it. With a feeling that he could not comprehend, Kokichi moved to draw a new cross, in purple, across another box.

It was indeed amazing at what could happen with planning. You can keep any nasty surprises to a comfortable minimum.

After taking the usual route, Kokichi wound his way towards the firm, crossing roads almost on instinct. The roads had wound into his memory, until he could end up in the large, hollow foyer, with the feeling that he had just exited the front door of his house. The feeling was less profound now; it had faded away, along with everything else.

A flash of red caught his attention, and he caught sight of Maki striding towards him, with Kaito following close behind. Instinctively, he felt a jolt of energy, and plastered an impossibly wide smile across his face as he practically frolicked towards them.

“And to what pleasure do I owe this? My own welcoming committee! You are both too much!”

Maki’s eyes narrowed, and Kaito frowned. Signing, Maki turned away. “In case you forgot-” ( _ha, fat chance_ , Kokichi thought), “-we were supposed to start our project today.”

“You know what a group is?” Kaito interjected, eyes glinting. “I thought a person such as you had never had prior experience of one outside this firm.”

“I’ve always thought that you were the person who had no experience!” Kokichi replied, too quickly. He broadened the smile, and aggressively beamed up at Momota, “In everything, that is.”

Kaito scowled, but nevertheless remained silent. Maki started to walk toward the lifts.

“Just so we’re clear Kokichi, I’m willing to tolerate you just for the duration of the project,” Maki said, without turning round. “The second we’re finished, I want to see no more of you.” _Believe me, the feeling’s more than mutual_ , Kokichi said to himself, as the group awkwardly entered one of the steel grey lifts. He avoided conversation with the other two occupants, and kept his grin aggressively tethered to his face as the lift smoothly slid its way up, toward the accounting division of the building.

\---

It was with relief that Kokichi staggered back into the lift, a full eight hours later. If the hours spent asleep didn’t count, than he spent a staggeringly large amount of time of his day up the building, grinding his way through the project, with both his group members icily glaring at him, as if he had interrupted something special, as if he was an intruder. Fine. But if that was the only human contact he was to have for the next month, as the group blundered its way through the numbers, than he did not have much hope for the next few days. The thought made his thoughts sink lower and lower, perhaps to where the lift was to go. The ground level. Or perhaps the underground storage cellar. The only glimmer of light was seeing Kaito grimace at the barbs in his comments. Seeing the other two members turn further and further away from him. Seeing him as some sort of -

The lift stopped at the fifteenth floor, and a bright, cheery woman entered the lift. She was carrying a stack of coloured paper, with a rather bombastic design on them. Seeing Kokichi, she smiled at him, and then pressed the button for the underground carpark. After the doors closed, and rather to his surprise, the woman turned towards him.

“Evening! My name’s Kaede, and-” Taking a look at Kokichi, he could see her frown, and tone down her cheery attitude. Quickly, he put the grin back on his face; not the one he reserved just for Kaito; but a grin all the same.

“How can I help you?”

Kaede blinked twice, in confusion. Right. So they were not acquaintances. Anyone who had known Kokichi long enough would have not been surprised at the sudden change. Tentatively, she hesitatingly continued her earlier conversation.

“W-Well, as I was, ahm, saying, my name’s Kaede, and I am from the software branch of the company, and I would like to invite you to a masked ball, that I am planning on holding next week!”

Kokichi took a moment to completely comprehend this. This was completely out of schedule, and completely what he was not used to. Very rarely had any person greeted him that affably, and with such enthusiasm. And he had never received any invitations before. His mind had encountered a glitch. Time to reboot.

“Sorry, but I don’t think we’re too well acquainted!” Kaede said, observing Kokichi’s blankness. “I’m engaged, and the marriage ball is to be next week; my fiancé and I are hosting it, and we’ve chosen to go with the masked ball theme, you know, from _The Masque of the Red Death_.”

Following Kokichi’s look of surprise, Kaede hastily continued:

“O-Only that we don’t want our party to end the same way! And I thought that the idea of masks sounds interesting, don’t you agree?” Kaede was evidently stressed by Kokichi’s lack of response; he decided to put her at ease. After all, she seemed polite enough, and only people like Momota and Maki were absolutely deserving of the silent treatment.

“Suuure! That sounds great, I’d totally want to go see a ball like that!”

Kaede seemed taken aback by the enthusiasm of the response, but smiled all the same. Kokichi took the flyer that she had given him from the stack, and he could now see that the bombastic design consisted of a collection of delicate and fancy masks, some of them comical and unrealistic, that were clustered around a banner proclaiming the marriage of Kaede and Shuichi.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you there! I expect that most people from the firm would be there, as well as some of my past friends; one of them’s serving as the best man, actually!”

Kokichi managed to maintain the grin, which now seemed to be shifting, gradually becoming more normal. He wondered at the thought.

“Oh! And try to put on a good mask and costume! I’m sure it’ll be better that way!”

As the lift reached the ground floor and the doors opened, Kokichi scurried out, while Kaede gave him a slight wave. But he was engulfed in his thoughts.

_Put on a good mask? I can certainly do that._

The walk home, for once, did not go as planned. It was as if the thought of the masked ball had flicked a switch, as if a spark had been lit, deep inside of him. For once, Kokichi wandered down the wrong street, and only realised his mistake some half an hour later. When he returned home, relatively late, he was in a daze. Only barely did he realise that he was still holding the flyer in his hand, which had protectively contained the sheet.

\---

It was one of those moments in which you never really see how much something is talked about, until it is brought to your attention. It would seem that talk of the marriage was all the rage the next day, and that everyone, even in the accounting division of the firm, could speak of nothing else. From the grapevine, it would seem that Kaede was very popular amongst the firm, and her husband-to-be, who was working at the police department as a detective, was also respected as one of the best in his field. Even Kaito and Maki lost some of their earlier frigidity, as they conversed between themselves, huddled together, about what they would be wearing to the celebration.

Of course, conversations sprung up when they were supposed to be working. Of course, one person was again excluded from the group. But at least people were in a more festive mood, that distracted them momentarily from their work, and ensured that they were less grating. Not that Kokichi particularly cared. As he crossed another day off from the calendar, he marvelled at the way in which the smooth purple marker gilded its way across the white square, so regularly, until it symmetrically crossed out that particular box. There was really nothing like regularity. However, as he walked to work, he could not help feeling a change in the air. It was as if he was viewing everything through a tinted lens. And that lens was tinted with a soft, gold colour. He mocked Momota as he struggled with the mounting pile of paperwork, snickered at Maki as she frustratingly scowled at how dysfunctional the group was, and how they were approaching the deadline. But some of his malice had been smoothed out.

A day later, he suddenly realised that he was getting out of bed much more easily.

\---

As the days became closer to the day of the marriage, Kokichi realised that it would be just as well that he stopped work on the project, until the marriage was over. Everyone could apparently talk of nothing else, and even the pretense of work, which had been kept up for the first few days, had been unceremoniously dropped. It would honestly had been better, and more money efficient, if the firm had declared a holiday for the days leading up to the special day. Things were disrupted, and work was progressing slower than usual.

For Kokichi, the days approaching the wedding had also been disruptive. He suddenly found himself staring at his designated two slices of toast, and milk with apricot jam, with more distaste. He realised that the taste of his breakfast had long before became nothingness, that he had just put food into his mouth for the sake of it. When he found himself searching up the address of a costume store, he began to realise that things were changing the usual schedule. He had become gradually enraptured about the celebration, alongside everyone else.With an unusual level of energy, he scrolled past the different stores, and chose the store closest to him.

\---

On the day of the wedding, which was to take place in the evening, Kokichi spent a longer time than he usually did in front of the hallway mirror. Instead of his usual drab business suit, he was wearing a mix of purple and white. A checkered scarf wound its way around his neck, and the purple cape, above that, was clipped so that it spread out as he walked, its fabric rippling and stretching. He had altered the ends of the fabric, so that it was less smooth, and now he felt pleased as he reviewed his jagged handiwork. A white suit, followed by white trousers, completed the set.

Carefully, Kokichi looked at the mask lying on the table, next to the mirror. The mask was modelled on that of a clown, so that it covered his entire face. The purple sequins he had added later, gluing them around the edges of the eyes and mouth. Carefully, he put the mask inside the bag he was planning to bring, as well as a black pilot’s cap.

Taking a last look at himself, Kokichi realised that he looked like a completely different person, like the person he had wanted to be. He had modelled everything based on what he desired. For the one night, he could actually play the part. With this parting thought, he lightly opened the front door, and closed it behind him.

\---

It would seem that the entire firm, top executives and all, had been invited to the ball. Upon reaching the exhibition centre that was rented exclusively for the wedding, Kokichi could only marvel at the stream of people entering the grand double doors. From what he could see from the windows, the floor inside consisted of polished wooden beams, and there were several caskets of sparkling wine, alongside an almost uncountable number of sparkling glasses. Apparently, one of Kaede’s friends, the supposed best man of the wedding, had a family wealthy enough to afford the rent for the centre. Kokichi had barely enough time to think about what that person could even be like, before he saw a familiar sight in front of him.

Kaito stood stiffly at the entrance, at the front of the queue. He seemed to be wearing a spaceman costume, with the helmet tucked awkwardly under his arm. Kokichi could barely shout out: “And you think that a helmet is a mask? Really?” before Momota turned, and saw him. His expression quickly underwent a series a quick developments, from neutral to frowning, and finally to scowling. Before he could reply, the person beside him scoffed.

“And you think being dressed like that is any better?”

Kokichi saw Maki, beside Momota, looking at him incredulously.

“Heeey, at least I have some shred of creativity! For all you know, I could be a trendsetter!” Kokichi returned, to which Maki huffed, and turned away without a word. Kokichi saw that Maki was wearing a red dress, as well as red bows for the pigtails. _Talk about the Red Death_ , Kokichi muttered to himself, under his breath. As soon as any film directors wanted to make a film adaptation, he would let them know of a certain person who is precisely fit for the titular role.

He carefully placed his mask over his face and his black cap over his head, and handed his invitation to the guard at the gate.

\---

The inside of the building was just as had been advertised from the windows. Kokichi marvelled about how everything seemed to be glimmering and brand new. Perhaps it was, and Kaede’s friend was wealthy enough to purchase it all … Wherever he was.

Now that the ball had begun, Kokichi realised that mostly everyone had their masks on, so that it was practically impossible to tell anyone’s identity; apart from a certain person who was dressed as a spaceman, staggering across the beams, as apparently the helmet was not particularly good when it comes to vision. Another person, in a red dress, helped stabilise him. Smirking from behind the mask, Kokichi was deciding to follow the pair and record everything he saw into his long term memory, when a series of chimes echoed through the room, and conversation gradually ceased. The chimes were brief but delicate, emanating from the antique, wooden clock at the corner of the room, beside the podium where a group of people were gathering, each finding chairs to sit.

The two people at the front of the podium removed their masks, and Kokichi saw that they were Kaede and Shuichi. He noticed that Kaede had on a dark, purple dress. A series of music notes were attached to the dress, and Kokichi marvelled at how they seemed to slide across each other as the dress moved, almost as if the music was live, almost as if he could hear the music, and feel the energy behind the notes. He distinctly remembered overhearing that Kaede was excellent at playing the piano, and had been doing so from her earlier childhood. It would seem that this was one hobby she did not grow out of. Her husband was dressed almost entirely in black; he had on a dark uniform, resembling that of a policeman; a black hat completed the image.

But it was the third person on the podium, behind them, that caught Kokichi’s eye the longest. This person still had their mask on, and was dressed entirely in green. A series of what looked like green gems encircled the eyes of the mask, and a pair of startling green eyes looked out of them. There was something decidedly mysterious about the person, who did not react to the attention of the audience, but remained behind Kaede and Shuichi as they announced the start of the wedding. Kokichi began to wonder who this person was, and why they were on the stage.

“..And now we come to the speech of the best man! Please direct your attention to Rantaro Amami!”

As the audience applauded, both Kaede and Shuichi turned toward the person in green, who began to move forward to the front of the podium. Oh. So this was the best man of the wedding. No wonder he was so mysterious; the mask alone must have cost an unimaginable amount. The green gems must be emeralds, at least.

The man in green ( _Rantaro_ , Kokichi thought to himself) took up the front of the stage.

“Hey everyone, I know there’s been a lot of buildup to this, but I’m just an ordinary guy, I swear!”

The voice that reached Kokichi could only be described as smooth. As silk, was the first thing that came to mind; it was a calm voice, and yet it held a sense of authority. Rantaro should use his voice for public announcements, or for radio. Kokichi’d pay to hear that. The voice continued:

“I’m what you could call the ultimate adventurer; from as far back as I can remember, I have had this powerful sense of wanderlust, that led me to places around the world. I’d been to all the major cities, probably to all the charted areas of the globe, and hopefully soon all the uncharted areas too!”

A smidge of laughter rippled across the audience, and Kokichi found himself smiling along to the comment. Okay, so perhaps not for radio. Maybe Rantaro should use that voice of his for the pre-flight safety videos on aeroplanes, or for travel agency advertisements. _Please leave your seatbelts on until the plane has come to a complete stop…_

The green eyes behind the mask glimmered, and as Rantaro continued the speech, Kokichi found himself being drawn gradually closer and closer to the aura that the man had around him. There was something comforting yet magical about the way Rantaro looked. It was as if Kokichi was looking at something completely different from what he usually experienced, something that he could not completely describe. It held an air of mystery, of challenge, that drew you into its deepness and made you forget. It was the enchantment of the new. He could not look away.

“... And all the best for the future of the happy couple; I give you my blessing.”

Kokichi was already moving his hands to applaud before the words completely registered in his mind, but it would seem that the man in green had yet to finish his speech. With his mouth slightly open, Kokichi gulped as the green eyes travelled around the audience.

“... And one last thing…”

You could hear a pin drop in the hall.

“... What we can all gain from this experience, I think, is that there is no knowing what could lie just beyond your field of vision, what is just beyond your reach. If you could move your position just slightly, look at things from another perspective, try something new…”

The green eyes met Kokichi. It seemed like time had stopped as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“...Maybe you will find something special.”

And one of the eyes briefly closed as Rantaro winked at him.

Kokichi had no idea how he didn’t fall off the chair.

The eyes seemed to glow, as applause broke out from the crowd below the podium, and the man in green stepped away from the front. Kokichi only dimly saw Kaede and Shuichi step forward again, to continue the ceremony, before he quickly zoned out. It was as if he briefly had no idea where he was, or who he was. The presence of the man in green had completely distorted his frame of reference. He looked around to see where Rantaro had gone to, but he could not see any splotches of green.

It seemed like that rest of the ceremony had taken forever, but as the couple finished off their speeches, and as Shuichi received an overwhelmingly passionate kiss from Kaede as they were officially married to the merriment of the crowd (there were a few clicks of cameras going off at this point, too), people were leaving their chairs, and moving to the refreshment stand. Mind half numb, Kokichi moved to do the same. He had just finished pouring his first glass for the night, when he heard a cough from behind him.

Turning round, Kokichi caught an eyeful of palest green, that immediately led to him freezing up. The champagne he was holding came dangerously close to spilling, as his hands jolted. With a light laugh, Rantaro reached for the glass; at the moment that their hands touched, Kokichi swore that he could hear the electrical sparks from the numerous short circuits that his brain had received.

“Hey there! I think I saw you in the audience back there, with that clown mask! Very unique, I have to say.”

“I don’t think I saw much of you afterward,” Kokichi spluttered out, before mentally kicking himself. Strangely, Rantaro was one of the few people who could really get him flustered and unsure of himself. _If only Momota could see me now_ , he thought. Momota’d never let him hear the end of it.

Rantaro laughed again, with a sheepish expression, that made Kokichi glad that the mask was still covering his face. “Guilty, as charged! But I honestly find you very intriguing, and I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Yuup! I think not!” Kokichi replied, trying to regain some composure by focusing on an image of Momota in his mind, plastering the usual grin back onto his face. This became more difficult, when he felt Rantaro’s arm around him, as he led Kokichi towards a vacant chair, beside the large clock. Taking the seat next to it, he turned to look at Kokichi, with his mask still on. _Take it off_ , shouted a rogue thought in Kokichi’s mind, and he instantly regretted it. Fidgeting with his hat, Kokichi looked away from those penetrating green eyes.

“And what do you do?”

The question was softly asked, and yet Kokichi’s reply caught in his throat. The clock was chiming again, the sweet chimes penetrating his thoughts. It was already eleven at night, and he remembered- The mechanical ticking of his bedroom clock, the grey bedroom he found himself in each morning, the meticulous crossing off of the dates on his calendar, the two slices of toast looking mournfully up at him; walking instinctively to the firm, going up the building, going down the building eight hours later, after spending all that time in between with Momota and Maki-

All of a sudden, Kokichi lost the smoothness in his voice, and he suddenly realised that the pause was getting too long. He needed something. He could not tell the truth; after hearing that Rantaro was the self-proclaimed ultimate adventurer, of all the new and exciting adventures he had, some of them with his large family and many sisters, Kokichi’s own, mundane life shattered in the presence of such variety and excitement. He could feel Rantaro’s gaze on him, perhaps already losing interest, or worse. Kokichi swallowed heavily. There was one thing to do. Plastering on his grin again, he looked up, and into those green, expectant eyes.

“Well, I’d say that I’m the ultimate supreme leader!” Boom. Lie no. 1.

In spite of the mask, Kokichi could see Rantaro raise an eyebrow.

“Supreme leader? That’s a new one. How does that work?”

 _Time for some champagne_ , Kokichi thought to himself. If he is to go all the way, he may as well do it properly. Taking a large gulp, careful of the mask surrounding his face, Kokichi keeps the grin plastered on his face as he begins:

“Weeell, if you really must know, I was the leader of an organisation called DICE…”

\---

He was aware of his limit, but there was just something about Rantaro that led to Kokichi disregarding it completely. Soon, he had almost lost himself in the story he was telling. However, if Rantaro did ever doubt the sincerity of what Kokichi told him, he does not reveal it. His eyes remain on Kokichi as Kokichi downed more shots, and dug the hole ever deeper.

“Let me summarise. So, you were in charge of a secret international organisation dedicated to protecting the public against criminals by using methods outside the law?”

Yup. Deep hole indeed. Time to backtrack.

“Yep! But keep this between us, okay? It’s supposed to be a secret organisation. If I were to reveal more-” Kokichi makes a dramatic gesture by flailing his arms, which almost makes him lose balance, and makes his hat fall across his mask “-even I may not be spared, y’know?”

Rantaro seemed to hum in appreciation, eyes thoughtful. “And that’s how you came to be acquainted with Kaede, right? Through Shuichi.”

Kokichi paused, at once lost for words. He had not thought things out this far; in all honesty, he should have thought his story out more thoroughly before telling it; he had completely forgotten about relating his story about DICE to the story about how he had met Kaede. It would be natural to assume that he had dealings with Shuichi before, with the detective telling Kaede of his relationships with Kokichi. He may have lost his edge after the fourth glass, as his words became more like ramblings. But, before he could answer, he was distracted by a commotion at the other end of the room. It would seem that Momota, still stubbornly wearing the helmet, had collided with another partygoer, and had accidentally spilt champagne down their costume.

Seeing Momota fumble, however, did not produce mirth in Kokichi, as he expected. However, it contributed to the growing sense of unease inside of him. Momota was a reminder of the truth behind the lie. The mundane, dull, vanilla truth. It was at that moment that Kokichi knew that he had gone much too far with his lies. It had grown beyond him, and any more pressure would likely send it spiraling away from him completely. He nervously shook in his chair, the effects of the shots wearing off, giving way to a cold, creeping reality.

Rantaro had briefly looked away at Momota, as the commotion started, but as it died down, he returned his attention to Kokichi.

“What’d you say that we meet Shuichi together? I’m sure we’ll all have a great time with all our stories!” As Kokichi nervously debated with himself how to answer the question, the clock beside them chimed again, this time going all the way up to twelve. That was when Kokichi made his decision. A bit shakily, he stood up, watching Rantaro’s look of confusion from behind his mask.

“S-Sorry! I’ve just realised that I’ve got to return home n-now! Let’s continue our talk some other time!” Slowly, Kokichi began to walk away; however, it took a second to realise that Rantaro had grasped his hand. Kokichi froze. Behind the mask, his vision was getting hazier, and his sweat meant that the mask was starting to slip off his face. Hastily, Kokichi held the mask up with his other hand, and turned round.

“At least give me your name!”

Tongue-tied, Kokichi made one last effort. Trying to hold off the effects of the alcohol he had consumed, and plastering one last grin on his face, his tongue tasting briefly the salt in his sweat, Kokichi managed to blurt out what he first had in mind.

“You may call me: ‘The Ultimate Supreme Leader!’”,

Before he scampered quickly away, feeling the gaze of the other on his back.

\---

Kokichi did not know completely just how he had managed to return home intact, without being run over, or without losing his sense of direction. He did not know how he managed to stumble up the driveway and use the right key to open the front door. All he remembered was staggering into his bedroom, falling on his bed after tossing his mask to the floor, and losing consciousness. What he remembered most clearly, however, was opening his eyes to the metallic grinding of his bedroom clock, and the uncomfortable sensation of his head splitting in two.

Cursing over the number of shots he had the previous night, Kokichi realised that he would not be able to make it out of bed for the next few hours. Great. Another disruption to his schedule. He doubted whether he would be able to cross out today in as neat a fashion as all the other days. The bedroom, after the brightness of the wedding on the other day, was bleaker than usual, and the sound of the clock much more jarring. Kokichi wanted to grab it between his hands and shake it before crushing it, ideally with a hydraulic press. For the moment, however, he contented himself by waiting for his headache to clear and his will to live to return. It would be four more hours before he felt in control of himself to have a late breakfast. His purple marker misses the centre of the square completely, and the cross became lopsided. Groaning, Kokichi thought briefly about burning the calendar. In this way, another quiet day was spent at home.

\---

On the next Monday, attempting to look his normal self, Kokichi ambled up to the firm, plastering the usual grin on his face before entering, and waiting for Momota and Maki to appear, to start the usual heckling. However, this time, Maki came alone. Kokichi raised an eyebrow; heckling Maki was not as fun. Besides, there was a quality to Maki that made taunts seem to slide off her; she was not as easily aroused as Momota, and seemed to add up the various times Kokichi had annoyed her in her head, for a time of reckoning that was likely to coincide with the end of the project. With this in mind, Kokichi was more cautious when Maki appeared, and his grin faltered as he saw that Maki was looking at him in a way he had not seen before. At a certain angle, it almost seemed like amusement.

Before Kokichi could say anything, however, Maki interrupted him.

“Well, Kokichi, have you heard the local gossip?”

Another surprise. Maki wasn’t a person to pay peculiar detail to the gossip circulating throughout the firm. She usually disregarded them as trifles, dreamed up by bored workers to entertain other bored workers, usually at the expense of someone else. However, this time, Maki’s eyes seemed to gleam.

“It seems as if Amami is looking for his ‘Ultimate Supreme Leader’.”

Kokichi turned pale, and his grin began to falter. Still, he played dumb. “How do you mean?”

Maki’s lips turned upward, into a tight smile.

“I mean that, apparently, he felt himself interested in a certain partygoer, in a clown mask, who apparently made up a grandiose story about being the leader of some vigilante group. He told the partygoer’s story to both Shuichi and Kaede, both of whom denied ever knowing someone who had such connections.”

Maki leaned forward, until she was standing directly in front of Kokichi, looking down at him. For a brief second, Kokichi felt a twinge of fear. At certain times, Maki could be frightening to behold.

“And now, he is searching for this person at this firm.”

“Why at this firm?” Kokichi managed to get out, his eyes avoiding Maki’s. Smirking, Maki explained further.

“Apparently most of the partygoers are from this firm. None of the others invited fits the bill.”

Kokichi blinked, and uttered the question he had been dreading: “So why is Momota not here, then?”

Maki seemed to let the question hang in the air around them, obtaining pleasure from Kokichi’s nervousness, which was becoming more apparent by the second. When she answered, it seemed like Kokichi’s worst fears were becoming realised.

“It would seem that Kaito witnessed the partygoer who was with Amami, and can positively identify who the person was.”

As if on cue, the sound of the lift doors opening cut across the silence following Maki’s answer. Condemning himself to his fate, Kokichi glanced at who was inside.

His first sight was Momota; for once, Momota did not scowl when he saw Kokichi; instead, the grin he had on widened.

“...And I think we’ve found your supreme leader!”

Hesitatingly, Kokichi turned his head, and locked eyes with the other person in the lift. It took one look at the greenness of the eyes for his head to go into emergency shutdown.

Slowly, Rantaro Amami strode from the lift, walking toward Maki and Kokichi. Kokichi heard his footsteps approaching him, and his eyes never left those of the other boy’s until they were standing in front of each other.

There was an awkward silence; for once, Kokichi’s grin faltered, and dropped. Without the mask and costume, he saw that Rentaro had numerous piercings on his ears. His nails were also painted a shade of green, and he was wearing a striped shirt.

“Uh… hi?” Kokichi finally managed to splurt out, to a roar of laughter from Momota.

“Never thought I’d see the great Kokichi Ouma lost for words like this! We should totally have Rantaro in our group!"

Rantaro said nothing, but his eyes never strayed from Kokichi.

For once, Kokichi had completely lost his facade. His morale had descended as rapidly as the lift. He struggled to come up with something appropriate, anything appropriate, to defuse this scene, to prevent it from turning out to be a twisted parody of a romantic comedy. However, before he could think of what to say, Rantaro spoke first, his voice low.

“I think you and I need to have a talk.”

With an unreadable smile, Rantaro led Kokichi smoothly away from Maki and a still-grinning Momota (who’d never probably let Kokichi forget about this moment), and towards the lift. They travelled up the building in silence; unlike the times when Kokichi had to deal with Momota and Maki in the lift, this silence was comfortable and calming. It relieved the tension that had been building up inside Kokichi, and he was almost upset when they had reached the fifteenth floor, and the lift doors slid open. They were in the software division of the firm, where Kaede worked; however, Rantaro led Kokichi towards a vacant room, divided from the others, and shut the door after them. Kokichi ambled toward the table at the centre of the room, then took a seat facing the door.

Turning round, Rantaro accosted Kokchi.

“The ultimate supreme leader! Now, how did you make that one up?”

The voice, far from angered or annoyed, held an air of amusement.

Kokichi angled his vision toward the ground, as he sensed Rantaro taking a seat opposite him.

“To be honest-”

_Wow. Great start there._

“-I was in fact the leader of an organisation called DICE, but-”

Sensing Rantaro’s look of skepticism, Kokichi continued his explanation.

“-It was just some … some high-school group. We were only just dedicated to small tricks and practical jokes; violence was strictly forbidden by our rules. Just some way to bring together a network of social misfits from across the school.”

Kokichi realised that his voice had grown softer, that he wanted to shrink into himself.

“And, well - I always wanted to be someone, y’know? That’s partly why I brought DICE into the conversation. I realised that you would appreciate me more if-”

A soft laugh emanated from Rantaro, and Kokichi looked up, for the first time, to see that the boy was not teasing him at all.

“Didn’t ya hear what I said on that night, Kokichi?” Rantaro leaned forward, eyes sincere. His smile softened, but never left his face. “I said that I was just an ‘ordinary guy’.”

“An ordinary guy who had travelled across the world!”

“Yes, but in search of something. Something I’d love to have, but something that I do not have yet. At least-”

Rantaro’s smile faded, and he seemed, for the first time, to be uncomfortable in his chair. For the first time, Kokichi realised that he was viewing a highly sensitive side of Rantaro, that he had been hiding away. Underneath all the mystery and all the nebulous decorations, it would seem that Rantaro had hidden something inside himself. Deep inside himself, it would seem. Did the flashy Rantaro exist at all? What sort of person was he like, really? It was difficult to tell. Rantaro kept up appearances too well.

“I lost my sisters at one of those locations. South America.”

Kokichi’s mouth dried, and his eyes widened. For a moment, none of the two spoke.

“I see. I’m sorry.”

Rantaro’s eyes closed briefly, but he said nothing. Kokichi licked the edges of his mouth, then continued to probe, ever so slightly, at the edges. “And that’s why you’re-” Rantaro nodded once, sharply, and Kokichi stopped abruptedly. The expression that Rantaro briefly had on resembled true pain. It was like pain from a wound that didn’t just remain on the body after it was inflicted, but also sends occasional messengers to the brain, reminders of a wound deep inside, and hidden from the outside. No - this type of pain was -

This type of pain was familiar.

Suddenly, Kokichi remembered. The clock. The toast and the apricot jam. The constant verbal harassment of Momota and Maki, almost out of desperation, to find something to cling on to; the hollowness of trying to keep up a false appearance and a semblance of normality.

He was up against the wall now. He could feel it in his mind, same as on the other occasions that he had bumped up against it, when he lay in his bed. He now realised what it was doing. It was limiting him, keeping him confined. He had, for all that time, given up in despair after failing to break it. He had dragged himself out of bed, through breakfast, and kept up a smile at work, until he returned home as day became night, ate a measly dinner, then went back to bed, flicking off the lamp on his bedside out of a frustration he had never completely understood.

Slowly, Kokichi reached out a hand, and laid it on Rantaro’s shoulder. Rantaro stiffened on impact, but gradually seemed to relax into the touch.

“It’s okay.” Kokichi said slowly. He watched as the other boy’s eyes met his own; they were no longer sparkling. “I understand.”

Slowly, Rantaro gave him the slightest of smiles. It wasn’t a full recovery, but it was a start. Maybe the wall could be navigated, after all.

\---

For once, when Kokichi woke up, the sound of the clock beside him did not register in his mind. He was honestly glad he did not destroy the clock, after all; now that the sounds were not drilling into his mind, he actually liked the stupid thing. Stretching his arms high above his head, Kokichi felt as if he had never slept so soundly in his life. A single ray of sunlight pierced the window, and fell on the bed; Kokichi looked at the path it traced upon the bedsheets, in mute astonishment.

Sliding out of bed, Kokichi realised that he was humming, a song that was unknown to him, that he had just made up in his mind. Entering the kitchen, he saw that the calendar was nowhere to be seen; all the pens were gone, too, especially the purple pen. In a daze, he even checked the rubbish bin. Nothing was in the bin. He had a distinct memory of ripping the calandar into two, then quarters, before hurling it into the bin at the end of the driveway, along with the pens. He also remembered that the bins were meant to be cleared this morning.

For a moment, Kokichi sat silently at the kitchen table, unsure of what to do, and momentarily uncomprehending of the new turn his life had taken. Slowly, he walked to the fridge, and saw that the apricot jam was missing. A snort of laughter burst from him, suddenly, and he found himself laughing uncontrollably. For once, he went to the firm with no breakfast. For once, he smiled naturally at Kaito and Maki, taking an unexpected delight at the astonishment on their faces, before warmly walking with them to the lifts. They talked all the way up the building.

When they reached their work area, Kaito turned to Kokichi. For once, he could see a smile across his face. “Look, Kokichi, I think Maki and I’d misjudged you too harshly. I think-” pausing, he looked at Maki for confirmation, and after the latter nodded, continued: “We’ll be willing to keep the ties between us, instead of severing it completely. Keep up what you’re doing today, and we may be able to tolerate being with you for the next project.”

For the first time, Kokichi’s mouth turned upward into a genuine smile. “I’ll think about it.” Kaito laughed; Kokichi could swear that Maki joined in.

It was at lunchtime that Rantaro paid his visit. Kokichi had purchased a salad from the deli opposite the firm, something he rarely did, and was halfway through it, before Rantaro entered the door to the project room, and took the seat opposite him. This time, however, Rantaro’s face seemed serious.

“Hey Kokichi, I was planning to ask you; do you have anything planned for the annual holidays next week?”

It would seem that this point of conversation was quite common through the firm at this time of year, but this was the first time that Kokichi had been asked that question. It took him a moment to respond. “No. I have nothing planned.”

“Then-” Rantaro hesitated for the briefest of moments. “-Do you want to join me on a trip to South America?”

 _South America. Where Rantaro last saw his sisters_. Kokichi’s answer stuck in his throat. But there was just one answer. He felt the old feeling of excitement grow within him as he replied.

“Yes, definitely.”

As Rantaro gave him the briefest of smiles, Kokichi thought he could see those green eyes fire up once again.


End file.
